Waking the Beasts
by BloodyRose98
Summary: There are other worlds, outside of ours. Three in particular, we call the Etherworlds. When they overlap with ours, creatures come through. Creatures the likes of which we have never faced before. Set right after the first episode of season 1 and working our way up. There is currently no pairings but that may change later. Rated M as it may contain a bit of gore.
1. Prologue

**Hey guys I know that i should be writing PftH but this came to mind so yea, this is a collab between me and my sister, Zribbles and its a Supernatural based fanfiction but the monsters in this fic are all created by Zribbles, so no stealing them, kay ?**

**Disclaimer - we do not own Supernatural but we own the monsters**

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_There are monsters, true. But not just _our_ monsters, not the threats that we, as Hunters, face every day. There are also other worlds. And sometimes, those other worlds overlap with ours, and open doorways into the unknown..._

_Creatures come through. Monsters, but not like the monsters we have here. The monsters we are familiar with. These are alien creatures with savage eyes and burning with malicious intent. Monsters, but much more than that._

_There is Heaven and there is Hell, we already know that much. But there is also a web of other dimensions and worlds, other parallels to our reality, all intertwined yet never meeting. _

_When they do touch, that is when things get hectic._

_Of all the other worlds, three in particular have impact when they connect. We don't know their official names, what their own people call them, so we simply call them the Etherworlds._

_They are set up in a likeness of our own world, Earth, Heaven, Hell._

_The creatures that come through?_

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_**Nightmares beyond reason.**_

**That's the end of the prologue guys, I hope you liked it so far.  
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**Feel free to review and fave, it always makes are day x. See ya x**


	2. The Unknown Unleashed

**Here is the first chapter, hope you guys enjoy it :)**_  
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**Disclaimer - we still do not own Supernatural and we still own the monsters.**

_'There are monsters, true. But there are also other worlds. And sometimes, those worlds overlap with ours... And creatures come through. Monsters, but not like the monsters we have here. Alien creatures with savage eyes and malicious intent. Monsters, but much more than that.'_

Sam flopped over heavily onto his and his girlfriend Jess' shared bed, eyes closing as he smiled happily at the thought of being home with her again after his short but eventful trip away.

He relaxed slowly as he listened to the steady pattering of the shower in the next room, before his peace was disturbed by something warm and wet dripping onto his face. The first droplet landed on his right cheek and his face twitched in response. He opened his eyes as a second drop landed on his forehead. His eyes snapped wide open and he stared up, a horrified gasp escaping his throat as he stared up, shocked. Above him his girlfriend's body lay pinned to the ceiling, a huge gash across her midriff the source of the sticky warm liquid - her blood, he now realised - that was dripping onto him.

As he realised what was happening, he shouted out "No!" seconds before Jess erupted into flames which spread out rapidly across the patterned ceiling, licking at the walls. A loud bang resounded through the room as another man kicked the wooden door hard till it gave way and broke open. Dean frantically looked around, trying to spot his brother through the rapidly thickening smoke. Unable to find a sign, he called out as loud as he could for him. "Sam!"

Sam raised an arm to shield his face from the heat of the flames, ignoring his brother calling and instead crying out to Jess, horrified and shocked to his core by what was taking place above him.

Hearing Sam desperately calling for his girlfriend, Dean rushed in the direction of the call and found himself in the bedroom, Sam half sitting up on the bed and staring up at the ceiling, eyes glued to his burning girlfriend. "Sam! Sam!"

When he received no response he glanced up at the ceiling, sparing just a couple of seconds to gaze at Jess. Knowing there was nothing he could do for her, Dean rushed forward to grab Sam and pull him from the burning room none too gently. Sam struggled against the arms that were now dragging him away from Jess, even as, dimly, he knew there was no way to save her. "No! No!" He screamed, Dean shoving him forcefully out of the burning house, still howling for Jess, and manhandled him away from the blazing inferno that had taken hold.

Dean turned away from the fire-fighters, slowly walking back to his '67 Chevy Impala. He looked confusedly between the trunk and Sam as his brother loaded a shotgun. Sam glanced over at him, before sighing and tossing the shotgun back into the trunk. "We've got work to do." He replied simply to his brothers evident confusion, before slamming the trunk shut.

Sam sat down slowly at the greasy table in the motel room he and Dean were currently sharing, his eyes glued to the newspaper articles he'd printed from the internet. They depicted an 'incident' that had occurred at their current location 40 years ago. Sam's curiosity had been roused after the shopkeeper at the burger place had mentioned a supposed 'rabid dog' attack that had happened the night before. According to the cashier, the dogs had been shot but it had not slowed them in the slightest; they had then vanished as if it had never happened. Sam had began research almost the instant he got back to the motel, and he was now looking through the city history.

Growing bored of flicking through irrelevant information and finding nothing that interested him, Sam flicked through his father's journal with only the faintest of hopes that there might be something relevant within. To his surprise, he found the name of the city they were in circled with a newspaper clipping pinned next to it. Taking care not to tear it, he removed the clipping to take a closer look, frowning a little. As he read the article his gaze became more focused and his expression turned to one of deep thought; the article spoke of a dog attack that had taken place 40 years ago.

It could be a coincidence that a similar attack had taken place exactly 40 years ago, but he didn't believe such a thing existed. He compared the two clippings - the old and the new - but could find no sign that they might be related other than the strange resilience of the supposed dogs involved. Sam sighed and leaned back in his chair, tapping the end of his pen against the table and looking up as the door was pulled open. He stared at Dean, who was laden with shopping bags, a bizarre sight in itself. Dean dumped the bags unceremoniously onto the musty couch before he turned to look at Sam, a cheeseburger already clamped tight between his teeth. He gazed at Sam a moment contemplatively before he removed the burger to speak. "So..."

Sam continued to gaze at him almost expectantly, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

"...I got tomato salad, I got potato salad, or I got just plain rabbit food. Which do you want?"

Sam let out his breath and rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair again. Dean moved to take a seat at the same table, looking a little bemused by his brother's reaction. "What? What's with the bitch face?"

Sam muttered "Jerk," before he raised his voice to normal again. "I think I've got something here but I'm not entirely sure what yet."

Dean held a hand out, silently asking for the material Sam had been looking at, his burger back in his mouth. Sam passed the articles over, one hand out for his salad in return. Dean pushed it towards him before considering the material in hand, glancing up at Sam questioningly and again taking the burger from his mouth to utter one word. "Skinwalker?"

"I think so, but there's not enough material to be certain yet." Sam responded, looking up from his salad to answer.

Dean shrugged a little at that, leaning back. "What else could it be?" He questioned, before he took a bite from his burger.

~~~~~~~  
Dean awoke with a start, lying completely still for a moment and listening hard, trying to determine what had woken him. It didn't take him long at all to figure it; outside the motel, shrill car alarms were sounding all at once. In the bed across the room, Sam was already awake and peering out the window into the night. "Sounds like it's from our parking lot.." He murmured, mostly to himself.

Dean uttered a curse and threw back the covers, "It better not touch Baby!" he sprinted out the door, careening down the stairs and into the motel parking lot. He hurtled towards where the Impala was parked, searching for intruders even as he ran. When he grew nearer he slowed to a walk, before halting besides it, seeing nothing wrong with his baby. He slowly started around the front of the car, inspecting it carefully for anything wrong. Behind him, Sam approached carefully, and by the time Dean reached the other side of the Impala he was just about close enough in time to hear,

"Sonuvabitch!"

~~~~~  
The next morning when Sam awoke, the first thing that came to mind was the way Dean had reacted to the Impala's condition the night before. Dean's expression when he had spotted the long, thin but deep scratches down the side of the car's body had been first incredulous, before rapidly turning a mix of upset – not that Dean would ever admit to being actually upset about his car - and angry. He turned over to face the other bed and struggled to contain his laughter. Dean was laying face down in his pillow, as one would if their favourite item had been taken away from them. Sam rose and reheated a burger, trusting the smell to raise Dean from the dead. His brother almost immediately sat up and followed the scent to the kitchen, in time to find Sam sliding a burger onto a clean plate. Dean looked at Sam questioningly as Sam wordlessly handed him the plate, patting his shoulder as he left the room. Dean watched him leave before he picked the burger up, taking a bite and following Sam to the next room. He stood near as Sam skimmed over the articles again, and leaned in to tap at a name in the newspaper, taking another bite of his burger at the same time. "If this guy is still alive, he'd be the best place to start."

Sam nodded, grabbing the car keys and standing again. "I'm driving." Dean nodded reluctantly, turning to follow him out of their room. When they reached the Impala, Dean slid into the passenger seat and muttered angrily under his breath about 'someone hurting Baby.' Sam shook his head a little, trying not to smirk - aware he'd receive a punch to the face if he showed even the slightest hint of amusement at Dean's plight - and started the car up, pulling out of the parking lot.

Not too long later, they arrived at the police station, and slid from the car with FBI badges already in hand. They entered the station and held the badges up as they reached the receptionist. "Agent Dawson and this is Agent Phillips, we're trying to find someone who served here 40 years ago. Chief inspector Willis, can you help us?" Dean spoke smoothly, turning a charming smile to her.

The receptionist took a look at their badges before she looked back up at Dean, returning his smile. "Certainly Agents, one second." She turned her attention to the computer in front of her, typing in the name she'd been given. "Ah.. It says here that he left the force 40 years ago, in 1965."

"Could you give us a current address for him?" Sam queried, eyebrows slightly raised.

"He's currently staying in the Sharp Mesa Vista hospital." She read off the address, which Sam noted down as she spoke.

Dean flashed a charming smile at the receptionist again when she looked up, "Thank you for your time Ma'am."

Once they had left the station and had slid back into the relative safety of the Impala, Sam turned to Dean, a serious expression on his face. "Dean.. This is a psychiatric hospital."

Dean's eyebrows rose, and he gazed back at his brother a moment. "..I guess we'll have to drop by Chief Willis, see what's eating him."

~~~~~  
Sam parked in front of the Asylum, getting out of the Impala and climbing the steps. Dean followed, stopping in front of the receptionist and showing her his badge " We're looking for Mr Willis, heard we'd find him here."  
She eyed their badges for a moment with an unimpressed air about her, but dutifully searched the name Willis. A few moments of keys tapping and clicks of the mouse later, and she looked back at them and reeled off a room number in a sour voice.  
"Thank you."

The two brothers headed swiftly down the corridor and through a set of double doors, into the residents area – after once again showing their badges to security – and started looking for the room number the receptionist had given. Dean spied it first, the other side of the corridor, and stopped before it. He looked around as Sam caught up behind him, and smirked at him. "Well, here goes nothing."  
Opening the door carefully, he stepped inside and slowly walked up to the man sitting in a chair by the wall.  
"Hey, Mr Willis?"  
"I'm agent Dawson, this is my partner Agent Phillips. We'd like to ask you a few questions if you don't mind."  
The man looked up at him, his eyes looking from Dean to Sam. Despite living in a mental hospital, his eyes were bright and sharp. "Of course."

Sam took a seat opposite the former Chief of Police, clasping his hands together and gazing at him steadily. "Could you tell us what you saw 40 years ago? Or what you thought you saw?" James Willis's eyes widened and filled with fear at the topic brought up, " No one believes me, they called me insane and locked me in here."  
Sam smiled kindly at him, "We're not everyone else. Please, just give us a chance Mr Willis."  
Willis sighed and began in a quiet voice, eyes downcast now. "It was a normal night at first, I was heading home. Then they struck, they came out of nowhere, seemed like hundreds of them at the time, but actually there were only about 10. They were dogs, but the most bizarre dogs I've ever seen. They had this weird frill around their neck, and their fur was almost black as the night, it was, but it was hanging off of them like they were rotting. They were blind, they had eyes alright but big white milky ones, they couldn't see nothing. I don't know how they saw, maybe they smelled me, but they did and they attacked. I called for help and it came, but not before them dogs gave me a reminder for life." He paused in his story, awkwardly leaning down to roll up his trouser leg and revealing a scarred, mangled ankle, teeth marks white against reddened savaged flesh. He straightened out again and continued his story without looking for their reactions, gaze still on the floor. " Anyway, help arrived and I got me gun, and we were shooting them but they wouldn't die, they just kept coming, over and over and over, and we thought it would never end... but then the sun came up and as soon as light reached them, they turned and they fled. I ain't seen them since."  
Sam glanced at Dean, figuring there was more to the story then he was letting on, from the abrupt way he'd ended his tale. Dean looked back to the former cop, "So you had never seen one before?"  
Willis looked up in surprised that he was still being questioned, " Nope, never."  
"Then how come you knew exactly what they looked like even though they were 'almost as black as the night'?"  
Willis swallowed hard, caught. "Alright, one was injured, it was limping. I think it was like it before it came after me, but anyway it slowed it down, so we caught it, kept it locked up. It should still be there now."  
Sam took over from Dean, leaning forward in his chair to stare hard at Willis. "Where did you keep it?"  
Willis sighed heavily, defeated, "In the police station basement."

Sam and Dean left the Asylum in silence, and headed down towards the Impala, still keeping their silence due to passers-by. Dean gazed sadly at the poor state his baby was in, before moving to the passenger side and letting Sam get in to drive back to the station. A short drive later and they were back where they'd started, walking up the steps to the receptionist again. "Hey Miss, We were wondering if we could take a look at the basement." Dean cast a charming smile her way as they came to a halt in front of her again.  
The receptionist looked between them, more than a little bemused. "What do two agents want with our basement?"  
"Ah, please, that's confidential. It may be nothing, but we'd like to keep it quiet in case." Dean maintained his smile, watching her confidently.  
"Um.." The receptionist looked uncertain as to whether she should be allowing them down, then shook herself out of her thoughts. "Of course, Agents.. It's right through that door over there." She gestured toward a heavy metal door in the corner of the room, biting her lip uncertainly.  
Dean looked at Sam with slightly raised eyebrows, before he returned his gaze to the receptionist and turned the charm on again. "Thank you Miss. We'll just be in and out, just a quick check."

The two brothers turned and began walking towards the door as one, Sam reaching it first and pulling it open. They both peered into the darkness, just about able to make out the vague shape of a stairway heading down. Sam lifted a flashlight out of his pocket, clicking it on before slowly descending down the steps wordlessly, Dean in tow. Taking out the gun he kept hidden in the waistband of his trousers, Dean looked for any signs of a dog like creature in the room, before stopping suddenly. "Hey Sam, light." Sam turned almost immediately to point the flashlight in Dean's direction, as requested.  
Dean let out a breath, looking around the mangled remains of the metal cage, "Whatever this thing is, it is not a Skinwalker."  
~~~~

Later that night, Dean and Sam sat in the Impala back at the motel. They had compared the damage from the cage to the damage done to the Impala, and had deduced that it was the same creature. Now they lay in wait, Dean munching quietly on a piece of pie, casting his eyes around the parking lot once more. He swallowed the last bite and gave a soft sigh, growing bored of the long waiting game already.  
Sam had sat patiently in the drivers seat for the first few hours, after which he'd taken to drumming his fingers lightly on the steering wheel. When, several long dull hours later, nothing out of the ordinary had happened, he turned to his brother, "I don't think it's gonna turn up Dean. At least, not tonight."  
Dean nodded, frowning, and they both turned at the same time to get out of their respective sides of the car and head back to the motel room to catch what little sleep they could. As Sam opened the door and swung his legs around to stand, teeth fastened into his ankles and he went down with a yell of surprise, hitting the cold floor hard and knocking all the breath out of him.  
As soon as Sam was pulled down, Dean jumped out of the car, a gun in hand. He raced around and began trying to get a shot at the dark creature, "Let go of my little brother you sonuvabitch!" He adjusted his aim and shot the creature in the jaw, forcing it to let go of Sam. It turned to him snarling hard, and lunged for his ankles in retaliation. Dean did an awkward dance backwards to avoid being bitten before shooting it in the head again, the bullet burying itself deep in the hounds skull. Dean and Sam dragged themselves up onto the bonnet of the Impala to avoid the still-snapping teeth, the creature not fazed by the bullet in its head at all. It circled around the car a few times, barking at them, and whilst it was circling Sam took a good look at it. It was the size of a small dog, and, just like the ex-police chief has said, it appeared to be rotting, straggly black fur clinging to its skeletal frame. In some places wasted muscle showed through completely, and set deep into its skull were huge staring milky eyes, clearly blind. Along its back, the ridges of its spine broke free of the skin and protruded up towards the sky. Set between each ridge were a series of small sharp spikes and about its head flared an elaborate set of frills, tinged pink.  
The creature snarled at them one last time before its head swivelled sharply to the right. It appeared to listen carefully for a moment, head tilting slightly, chest heaving - which was when Sam spotted what appeared to be gills in its chest, opening wide to breathe in.  
Sam frowned deep, wondering why a creature that was clearly not from the sea needed gills and why they were situated in its chest. While he was pondering this rather odd development from the safety of the car bonnet, the creature turned and scampered away, skittering between the rows of cars. As it passed between them, the spines along its back scraped against the sides of the closest cars, setting off multiple alarms. Sam and Dean exchanged a look before rolling off the bonnet of the Impala and hurrying to exit the area, so as not to be accused of the new damages.

That morning, after a mere two hours sleep, Sam sat on his bed talking to Dean about what happened the night before. They finally concluded, after going around in circles for a good ten minutes suggesting creatures, that it was nothing they had ever heard of before. Sam opened their fathers journal to look through it in the hopes of a hint about what the creature was, thinking maybe there would be something since the location had been mentioned.

After a few minutes spent perusing the journal, Sam looked up at Dean, "The newspaper Dad had and the one from a couple of nights ago are similar, so it must be the same creature back then and also must had been the one that broke out of the police basement." He stated.  
Dean nodded, looking thoughtful, "We have to find a way to kill it. Guns clearly don't work on this thing, it took a bullet straight to the head and carried on biting."  
"Well, it's not a spirit so salt won't work and it's also not a demon... It was rotting though, so chances are pretty good that it's undead. How about a stake?" Sam suggested, thinking it over carefully.  
"Might as well give it a shot." Dean stretched and rose to his feet, leaving the room for a few minutes before reappearing with a large wooden stick and a sharp knife. He settled back down again and carefully began to slice slivers of wood off to make a sharp point at the tip. Sam followed his brothers lead, setting to work on his own stake.

That night, Sam and Dean sat on the bonnet of the Impala again, waiting for the creature to reappear. They'd learned their lesson from the first time they'd attempted to wait for it, and this time were staying out of reach from the get go. The smell of smoky bacon crisps wafted over to Sam, making him look around and sigh. Dean looked back at him, crisp in mouth, before crunching it and swallowing. "What?"  
Sam shook his head in exasperation and returned his eyes to the parking lot floor, springing from the car as a loud cry for help rang out. Dean swore colourfully and clambered down, dropping his crisps, grabbing his stake and racing in the direction of the screams alongside his brother. When they got there, they were met with a scene of horror; not just the one creature they were expecting but a pack of ten running amok through the village. Dean looked to Sam before speaking almost inaudibly, "We're gonna need more stakes." They both turned to view the rampant monsters before charging forwards as one, picking a dog to stake. They began circling it, one trying to get behind it whilst the other tried to distract it. Sam heard only a growl as warning before teeth fastened around his foot again and he toppled over sideways with a loud yell. He kicked at the hound at his free foot, the sole of his trainer connecting with its snout, and it let go and snarled at him, snapping it's teeth together angrily. Sam scrambled to get to his feet as fast as possible as the creature readied itself to pounce once more, but before he could turn to face it head on a yelp sounded behind him and Dean appeared by his side stakeless. As the creature lunged at them, Dean shoved his hand down its throat and balled his hand into a fist, shouting "Sam, stake!"  
Sam jolted forwards, only half registering what Dean had shouted before he drove the stake through the creature's chest. Dean yanked his hand free, pulling a face at the slimy mess of sticky saliva and lumps of black flesh coating his fingers, and the hound shuddered and collapsed. "Two down, eight to go." Dean pulled a face again, wiping his hand on his jeans.  
"Well, we better hurry because these things are vicious."  
They started to move towards their next target before a loud snarl stopped them in their tracks, and they turned quickly in time to see the hound Dean had originally staked raise itself to its feet, the stake still jutting from its side. "Sonuvabitch!" They looked at each other worriedly, and Dean reached into his jeans pocket, pulling a sharp knife out before turning in to meet the monsters lunge...

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**There it is ! Please tell us what you think, we love to hear from you guys.**

**Have a good day :) **


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